


Kirb Your Enthusiasm

by Slittherwolfe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blowjobs, Crack, F/M, Weird Shit, about vacuums???, ben sells kirby vacuums, he has an insta crush on rey bc honestly who wouldnt, he was a sk8r boi, i apologise to my mother, i dont know ow to tag???, not really but its fucking weird, not really hes just rich, sex fantasies, this is basically a shitpost idk where its going, this went from 0 to 100 real quick, vacuums are a plot point here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 13:57:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16430732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slittherwolfe/pseuds/Slittherwolfe
Summary: There was nothing more harrowing than lugging a crappy Kirby vacuum cleaner down some backwater Niima alleyway at seven thirty in the evening. And yet, here Ben was.---Inspired by that one interview Adam did. This is crack.





	1. Vacuum-a Matata (Except there are a lot of Matatas)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi its four twenty four in the morning where i am and i wanted to write this have sum weird vacuum based encounters enjoy idk my brain is a mystery to even myself  
> fair warning this has not been betaed i havent slept in fifteen hours and im prett y shrue this shoulnt be a thing

There was nothing more harrowing than lugging a crappy Kirby vacuum cleaner down some backwater Niima alleyway at seven thirty in the evening. And yet, here Ben was.

Ben was almost positive that he was going to die here. If not from the humiliation of the entire ordeal, then from a stabbing or a mugging or a hit and run. He’d checked the stats: crime rates in Niima were five times worse than the national average.

For the seventeen thousandth time that evening, Ben cursed his mother. It had all been her idea. “It’ll be good for you,” she’d said. “Get a little perspective, a little bit of life experience. Learn to fend for yourself for once, Ben.” And then she’d kicked him out of their Greenwich apartment and cut him off from his bank account. But _this,_ a gig as a fucking door-to-door salesman, was more like a form of torture than fucking life experience. It wasn’t as though Ben didn’t have any other job offers. He’d gotten internship offers from First Order and T.I.E, for God’s sake. Unpaid internships.

Fuming, Ben stalked down the dilapidated driveway of his final customer for the day. The façade of the house alone threatened to make Ben throw up the discounted ramen noodles he’d had for lunch. Certain that they’d taste a million times worse coming up than they did going down, Ben clamped his jaw shut and tried to ignore the stench coming off of the seemingly hundreds of ripped garbage bags littering the yellowing grass of the front garden. He had to sidestep a pile of decapitated dolls to reach the steps of the patio, hesitating slightly before stepping down on the rotting wood. They whined underfoot as he lugged the Kirby up behind him, obviously not used to carrying the combined weight of a six-foot-three man and a relic of the nineties.

The doorbell had been ripped off, leaving a mess of wires dangling beside faded letters that read ‘AT-AT’. For some reason, Niima used letters instead of numbers to address their houses, apparently feeling the need to shirk not only standard health and safety protocols, but also the conventions of the entire world.

Ben knocked on the door tentatively, his mind whizzing through the multitudes of diseases he could most likely pick up from it. Tetanus. Rabies. The Plague. Syphilis. Who knew?

No one answered, even after Ben knocked again. Secretly, he was glad; based on the exterior, he could only guess what kind of dumpster-diving, lowbrow, filthy-

The door opened, and so did Ben’s mouth.

There was a girl in the doorway.

A very pretty girl.

A girl he was supposed to be selling a shitty Kirby vacuum to.

“Um, hi,” he began, his voice cracking for the first time since high school. “Would you be interested in purchasing a Kirby vacuum cleaner for the low price of nine ninety-nine?”

Ben wondered how many girls had ever fallen for a Kirby salesman. Probably zero. Especially not pretty ones like her, with soft hazel eyes and a heart-shaped face and a body that most women would kill for.

The girl smirked, leaning against the doorframe. Flakes of paint fluttered down onto her shiny brown hair, dusting it like snow. There was a time (five seconds ago) that Ben would’ve said it looked like dandruff, but he was a changed man. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and, even in this godforsaken heat, he could imagine that she were an angel dusted with snow.

Ben saw her lips moving. They were nice lips. He wondered what they would taste like when he kissed them. Strawberries? No, she didn’t look like a strawberry kind of girl. She’d probably taste like fire and Christmas and gold dust. She’d probably use cinnamon, or even one of those weird soda chapsticks that used to be popular when Ben was younger.

He was staring. “Um, pardon?” he said, tearing his eyes away from her mouth. Maybe it was true love getting him all tripped up over some Niima girl, or maybe he’d been irrevocably brain damaged from the trauma of being a Kirby salesman.

Yeah, it was probably the last one.

“Does it look like I can afford a thousand dollar vacuum?” the girl repeated. She arched a brow, a slender, natural brow that looked so different than the stencilled in brows he saw on campus every day.

“…No.”

The girl laughed. “You’re not a very good salesman, are you?” she said. She crossed her arms, and it took everything Ben had not to look down.

“No, I, uh, I suppose I’m not,” he replied. Ben’s grip on the handle of the Kirby was slowly turning deathly with mortification. “I’m new,” he explained.

“Ah,” the girl said, sagely nodding her head. “Of course, of course.”

Ben realises that she has an accent. A cute, British one that would most definitely work its way into his fantasies later.

“… to sell a thousand dollar vacuum, y’know. We’re pretty much living paycheck to paycheck around here, don’t have time for fancy stuff like that when a broom does the same job just fine. Maybe you should tell your supervisors that. You don’t exactly look like you fit in here, to be completely honest, and maybe you should just stick to staying on campus instead of wandering out here looking like you do.”

“Looking like I- what?” The girl talked too much, and she only talked nonsense, apparently.

“You look like a baby lawyer,” she said, widening her gin. “Even though you’re dragging a vacuum around Niima.”

Ben bristled. No one had the right to embarrass him except for himself. “Hey, I’m not a ‘baby lawyer’,” he snapped. “And, for your information, this job is a tempor-”

“Do you go to Yale?” the girl interrupted.

Ben floundered for a minute, mouth opening and closing without making any sound. He nodded.

“Did mummy cut you off from your wittle-bittle twust fund?”

Ben’s face flamed. He nodded.

“Did you _honestly_ think that _anyone_ in Niima would be interested in buying a thousand dollar vacuum cleaner?”

Ben looked around. Took in the shit strewn all over the garden, the streets. Shook his head.

“Then take my advice, pretty boy,” the girl said, stepping back into the house. “Stay away from Niima. Wouldn’t want to see that handsome face of yours all slashed up.”

The door shut in his face, and the only thing Ben could think as he backed out of AT-AT’s driveway was, ‘ _what the fuck?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know if imma add more chapters, but here ya go hope ya liked my crack  
> also thanks to this i found out that door to door meat salesmen are a thing and what the fuck kind of drugs are u on america im worried do you need to talk about it why do you have to sell meat door to door???S??S?S?SDV?SDF?DS?W?D


	2. Blood All Hoover The Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kyle rons tragic backstory :(  
> yum yum

The salesman was cute. Rey almost regretted shutting the door in his face. But seriously, what on earth was he thinking? Anyone within a five mile range of the guy would instantly smell green. Walking through Niima in a well-fitted, obviously new suit was basically a neon sign saying ‘MUG ME, I’M A RICH ASSHOLE’. And what she said _was_ true; it would be a shame to see such a pretty face go to waste.

Rey had seen enough crappy porn, either of her own volition or accidentally walking into the living room to find Plutt beating his meat to the TV screen, that the entire scenario could’ve played out a little differently. Okay, a _lot_ differently.

There was a lot of shit online about pizza delivery guys. Rey didn’t know how anyone found that sort of stuff a turn-on, but everyone had their kink. Maybe Rey’s was tall, dark door-to-door-salesmen trying to sell her a thousand dollar Kirby vacuum cleaner.

She didn’t even know they still _made_ Kirby vacuum cleaners.

Rey peeked out of the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the cute salesman. He was still loitering in front of the house, vacuum cleaner in hand, wearing his tailored suit like it was a suit of rusty armour. She whipped out her beat up phone, pulling up Finn’s contact.

 **_Rye:_ ** _theres a cute salesman outside_

 **_Rye:_ ** _do u dare me_

Ellipses showed up on the screen almost instantly. Rey grinned. Even though Finn lived three time zones away, she could always rely on him to reply within a minute of her texting him.

 **_Finneeeee-ass bish:_ ** _no. do u not remember what happened to the paperboy in Endor???????_

 **_Rye:_ ** _i was thirteen JESUS LET THE PAST DIE_

 **_Rye:_ ** _besdiies, this isnt the same thing this guys cute_

 **_Finneeeee-ass bish:_ ** _Rey, calm your almost non-existent tits_

 **_Rye:_ ** _rude_

Rey quickly snapped a picture of the salesman, hoping didn’t see her, and sent it to Finn. It was a little bit too grainy to make out any of his features, but it would give Finn an approximation of what he looked like

 **_Rye_ ** _has sent an image_

 **_Rye:_ ** _theres even a vacuum for scale_

 **_Finneeeee-ass bish:_ ** _Jesus Christ it barely reaches his nips_

 **_Finneeeee-ass bish:_ ** _*hips_

 **_Finneeeee-ass bish:_ ** _but you know that this can only go one way_

 **_Rye:_ ** _Porn_

 **_Finneeeee-ass bish:_ ** _Murder_

 **_Finneeeee-ass bish:_ ** _wait what no rey no don’t no no this isn’t porn abort abort mission_

 **_Finneeeee-ass bish:_ ** _Rey????_

 **_Finneeeee-ass bish:_ ** _rey are you there please tell me you ddidnt go fuck the salesman_

Rey was not there. She’d, as the kids say, left the chat. But not because there was some kinky salesman porn to make.

No, it was because Finn was right; there _was_ murder.

One of Plutt’s goons had sauntered up to the house- to the cute salesman- with both hands in his pockets. No fool ever kept their hands in their pockets in Niima, not unless they had a shiv or a pocketknife hidden in there. Stupidly, the baby lawyer salesman was just… _standing there,_ being all cute and oblivious and one-percent-y. He was probably gonna die today.

“Oh shit,” Rey thought aloud. She threw her phone down onto the lumpy couch beside her and ran for the front door. It was times like this when she wished Plutt would just clear out his junkyard of a house, or even just the corridors. She knocked into a couple of boxes on her way to the door and listened to them clatter to the ground as she sped ahead, too worried about _someone literally getting shivved_ to give a shit about her foster father’s slovenly ways. She tried to shoulder open the door, only to find that the fucking handle had jammed again. Of course it was. It just _had_ to wait until someone was dying to act up like this. Rey jiggled the handle, hoping that it would open.

And it did.

After about five minutes, that is, in which time Rey had heard the goon say, “Gimme your money! And that vacuum!” and then the salesman said some stupidly heroic shit that was basically a ticket to the E.R. He said “No, I won’t do anything of the sort!”

 _Of the sort_. How upper crust.

And then the salesman had screamed like a girl- or that could’ve been Rey, or the goon. A lot of things blurred together in the whole mess of things. Anyway, someone had screamed, and the door finally u

nstuck. Rey tumbled out onto the porch, uttering a curse when she spotted the salesman kneeling on the pavement, clutching his face. Blood was gushing out from beneath his hands, dripping onto the floor to join the countless other dark stains painting the curb. The goon was gone, along with the vacuum.

“Hey, are you alright,” Rey hissed, hurrying down the pathway to the salesman. He glared at her, and goddammit if it weren’t one of the hottest things she’d ever seen. She suddenly understood all those shitty historical romances, with the brooding, battle-wounded hotties in kilts or some shit. She could fuck with this.

“Does it _look_ like I’m alright?!” he spat. Rey rolled her eyes. It was almost as if this guy had never been shivved in the face before.

“Oh, stop overreacting, you big baby,” Rey huffed. She grabbed his arm. “C’mon, get inside. We wouldn’t want the sharks to swarm.” She heaved the salesman onto his feet- God, he was _massive,_ probably a good couple of inches above six feet- and dragged him back to the house. She hoped that Plutt wouldn’t notice the bloodstains when he got back. He probably wouldn’t, seeing as though he’d be hard-pressed to see his own hand after two days and a night at the bar.

“Do you have your phone on you?” Rey asked the salesman. She kicked open the door, accidentally shouldering him in the face at the same time. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the salesman replied, his voice laced with enough sarcasm to kill a whale. “And no, I don’t have my phone. The little fucker who mugged me took it.”

“Well do you remember any of your friend’s numbers?” Rey asked. “They’ve gotta come pick you up.”

“Why not just call the ambulance?”

Rey snorted. The ambulance, in _this_ neighbourhood? That was laughable. Gold stars would shoot from Rey’s ass before that ever happened. “They won’t come to this part of town,” Rey told him.

“That’s bullshit!” he said. “No, they’ve gotta come. Call them.”

“What? No way, you whiny little debutante.”

“I’m _not_ a whiny debutante!”

“Oh yeah? Then why the fuck are you acting like one? The ambulance never come here, pretty boy, so call one of your rich asshole friends to come pick you up. I don’t want you bleeding out all over my house.”

 

* * *

 

 

  
**_Rye:_** _u were right there was murder_

 **_Finneeeee-ass bish:_ ** _EXPLAIN YOUSELF BEFORE I HAVE A FIT_

 **_Rye:_ ** _salesman got shivved by one of plutts goons_

 **_Rye:_ ** _im in the waiting room_

 **_Finneeeee-ass bish:_ ** _hell yeah now we’re both right_

 **_Finneeeee-ass bish:_ ** _murder AND porn lol_

It turned out that the salesman- Ben, he’d finally said his name was- couldn’t even remember any of his friend’s numbers, and so Rey had to ask the crazy lady who lived on the corner of the street to borrow her car to take him to the hospital. The whole thing was weirder than Rey had ever wanted. The wrinkled prune of a woman looked her up and down through her absurdly thick spectacles, finally saying, “You are worthy.” She’d told Rey to go stand in the street, and then she’d tossed the car keys through the second floor window for Rey to catch. There was a reason no one in Niima ever bothered Maz Kanata, even though she probably had years of valuable things hoarded in her house.

Ben had demanded that she drove all the way to the Empire Memorial Hospital, a full thirty minutes’ drive further than Alliance General was. All that time, he was bitching about how life was soooooo unfair, how he probably wouldn’t be able to afford dinner that night. Rey was hard-pressed to believe that anyone who walked around in a suit that expensive-looking and just casually demanded Good Samaritan girls to drive them to the most expensive private hospitals in the state wasn’t having caviar and truffles every night.

Rey felt comically out of place in the Empire waiting room, in her blood-stained, bargain bin clothes and her scuffed old Converse that she’d found sitting atop the clothes donation bin outside the Y. Everyone else seemed so polished compared to her, to the point of absurdity. She didn’t even know why she was still here, for God’s sake.

“Miss… uh…” a doctor said, tapping her shoulder.

Rey leaped up from her seat. “Jakkuson,” she told him. “How’s the dumb bastard?”

The doctor grinned. “He’ll be fine. Some scarring, but that’s inevitable, what with how deep the cut went. He’s ready to go home, if you want to do that now.”

She spotted Ben trudging towards them, his jacket tucked under his arm. He was left wearing his white dress shirt, only lightly stained red at the collar. Rey gasped when her eyes roamed up, taking in the long, angry gash running down his face. The edges of it were held together with little strips of what looked like tape. It hadn’t looked as bad when it was covered in blood. She thought he just had a tiny nick on his forehead or something, not a fucking Phantom of the Opera level kind of thing. But she wasn’t going to lie, it was a little sexy, especially when he scowled like that. And the way his shoulders were tensed up, straining against the fabric of his shirt…

“Make sure your boyfriend doesn’t get into any more fights he can’t handle,” the doctor joked. Rey nodded, not really paying any attention to what he was saying, her eyes still glued on Ben. “There are a couple of prescriptions that need to be picked up, a couple of painkillers and antibiotics. Make sure he follows the directions on the side, alright?”

“Mmh, yeah, that’s cool,” Rey mumbled.

“Get me the fuck out of here,” Ben snapped at Rey the minute the doctor was out of earshot.

Rey arched a brow.  She couldn’t like, she kind of liked the whole ‘sexy asshole’ vibe Ben had going on right now. “You could at least be a little nicer about this,” she told him. “I mean, I _did_ save your life and all, but by all means, keep being a dick.”

“Fine. I’m sorry,” he ground out. “Now, please, take me home.”

“With pleasure, pretty boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reys pov yea she wants to fuck the salesman  
> but like once hes stopped dying that wuld be weird dont listen to me i wrote a vacuum cleaner centric shitfic  
> upped the rating bc we gettin SCANDALOUUUUUUSE oWo  
> dont do porn kids, do drugs


	3. Vacumming For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi what the fuck did i write how did this happen im going to have a stroke and die thnks

“So, let me get this straight: you got a job selling… Kirbys?”

“Yes.”

“Door-to-door.”

“Yes.”

“In… Niima? The ‘trashhole neighbourhood’ that you said you’d rather shove a rusty spoon up your dick rather than step foot in?”

Ben sighed. Even though he’d known Poe Dameron for all twenty four and a half years he’d been alive, it still amazed him at just how fucking annoying the guy could be. Thankfully, most of the time he was out of the country. While Ben had pursued the more sensible path of law, Poe had decided to become a pilot, first in the military like his mother, and then onto commercial flights after he was discharged. Ben used to feel sorry for him, having his dreams crushed so early on- until Poe started getting into the habit of taking off his prosthetic and throwing it at Ben’s head whenever Ben said ‘anything even remotely annoying’. There was only so far brotherly love could take you.

“Poe, please just let me sleep for a bit,” he said. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been through a traumatic ordeal.”

“Traumatic ordeal, my fucking ass,” Poe scoffed, beginning to remove his leg. Ben scrambled back, not too keen on gaining another head injury so soon.

“Don’t you have a flight to get on?” Ben asked Poe. The sooner the son of a bitch got out of the house, the better. It meant more sleep and less grief, and those were to two things Ben wanted more than anything else in the world at the moment.

Poe snickered. “Can’t wait to kick me out of my own house, eh? Why?” he questioned, a glint in his eye that could only be described as manic. “You want to bring around that pretty Niima girl around and get things on?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Ben wished he had a leg he could throw at him.

“Shut up,” he grumbled. His face flushed at the memory of the girl who’d probably saved him from bleeding out all over the pavement of some rundown street in Niima. He thought he’d heard her tell the doctor her name was Ray Jackson or something, but he couldn’t be completely sure. He’d wanted to ask her on the ride to the hospital, or even the ride back to Poe’s, but from the look on her face, it didn’t much look like she’d appreciate being come onto by him. So he’d just stared like a creepy teenager instead of asking for her number like how a normal twenty-four-year-old should.

“Maybe you can go round to her place one day,” Poe suggested. “I’ll even lend you my car.”

“God, no, Hux and Phasma wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I did.”

Poe darkened at the mention of Ben’s other friends. He’d disliked them since Ben had introduced the three of them a year ago. Even though Hux came from a long line of respectable lawyers and politicians, and Phasma was brilliant in her own right, Poe had always neglected to see that. He said they were ‘morally bankrupt’, whatever that meant. The animosity went both ways, with Hux and Phasma both saying that Poe seemed too cocksure, too reckless to be anything but bad news. They’d only met twice before Ben gave up on them ever getting along.

“Fine, fine, you drama queen,” Poe said. He grabbed his suitcase, the beat-up white and orange one he’d had since he was seventeen. He took it everywhere, and Ben sometimes wondered if he secretly loved BB-8 more than anything in the world, apart from his mother, Ben’s mother, and Jason Momoa. “I’m heading off now. I’ll be gone for a couple of weeks, you know that, right? The house is _all yours_.”

“Way to be subtle,” Ben said. He went to the fridge, suddenly ravenous. There wasn’t much in it, just leftover takeout from a couple of days ago and a few shrivelled up grapes in a bowl by the back. “Hey, is there any possibility of you lending me some money to get some food?”

“Look how the mighty have fallen!” Poe said gleefully. He pointed to the table by the front door. “There should be like, a couple hundred in there for emergencies.”

“I could kiss you right now, Poe,” Ben said.

Poe grimaced. “I’d rather you not,” he said. “I mean, I’m glad you’re finally accepting the fact that I’m an irresistible sexpot, but the whole incest thing doesn’t really rock well with this flyboy.”

“We aren’t even actually brothers,” Ben pointed out.

“Yeah, but still.”

“Get the fuck out, Poe.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Poe sailed out of the apartment, waving like he was the fucking queen or something. The door slammed shut behind him and Ben swore he’d never heard a more beautiful sound.

Poe said there was a couple hundred in the drawer. Ben padded over to check, and sure enough there were ten crisp twenty dollar notes stacked in it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called the local Thai restaurant.

“Sawadee kha, Koy Lek Thai Takeaway,” the voice on the other end of the line babbled. “What is your order?”

Ben rattled off his usual order: chicken pad thai, chicken green curry with a side of rice, and that orange tea drink that’s always too sweet but Ben always orders anyway.

“Your order will arrive in forty minutes, sir. Thank you for ordering from Koy Lek Thai Restaurant.”

Forty minutes. Forty minutes to kill. He could invite Hux and Phasma over, but they lived on the far side of town. And besides them, he didn’t really have any friends he could call over, and even if he _did_ have any friends, he wouldn’t have wanted to.

 _You could call over Bazine,_ a sly little voice in the back of his head whispered. It was a good idea, all things considering. She could drive down from Greenwich, by which time he’d probably have finished his dinner, and then he’d fuck her into tomorrow.

Or maybe not. She hadn’t called him since his mom had cut him off from his bank account almost three weeks ago.

Goddammit. Thinking about Baz had made him hard, not so much to be uncomfortable, but enough to make him want to take himself in hand and do something about it. There was a small bottle of hand lotion on the coffee table. A rush of guilt washed over Ben for a second, but he ignored it, pumping a liberal amount of the lotion out. His hand travelled beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.

 _Ben straightened the lapels of his suit, even though he knew that they were neater than they needed to be. No one ever looked_ this _put-together in this part of town: well-dressed strangers in Niima were just asking to be mugged._

Wait. What the fuck?

The rhythm of Ben’s hand faltered for a second. Where the hell did _that_ come from?

_He didn’t even have to knock before the door swung open. There was a girl standing there, young, pretty, wearing jean shorts so short they should be illegal. Her legs seemed to go on for days and days, smooth and tan. Ben could almost see them wrapped around him as he pounded into her._

_“Hi there,” he greeted, his voice low and collected. “Would you be interested in buying a Kirby vacuum cleaner for the low price of nine ninety-nine?”_

_The girl grinned. It wasn’t coy like the smiles Ben’s usual type gave him. It was wide and bright, unapologetic in its openness. “I don’t know,” she replied. “What’s the suction power on the model?”_

_“Maybe you could let me in for a demonstration.”_

Okay, this was getting weird. But Ben’s body didn’t seem to care, his grip on his cock tightening, his pace speeding up a little. Ray’s- or Rey, he still couldn’t decide which she was- face was burned into his retinas, her grin, the way her hazel eyes crinkled  arousing to an alarming degree.

_The girl led him into the living room, cluttered with trinkets and unopened boxes with a small but serviceable sofa on the far end. “You can sit down,” she told him, pointing to it. She took the vacuum from his hand, caressing the handle in a way that made Ben want to groan. Ben backed over to the sofa, never once taking his eyes off the slender-limbed temptress in front of him. The way she bent over to plug in the cable of the vacuum was mouth-watering, her shorts rising up to reveal half of her bare, firm ass. Ben unconsciously spread his legs wide._

_“How do you think this bad boy’ll hold up against these floors?” she asked him, her voice ringing sweetly over the roar of the machine. “They’re pretty dirty, I’d say. Who knows what’s happened on them?”_

_Ben could imagine what had gone on on those floors. What_ might _happen soon. The girl seemed to know as well. She abandoned the vacuum, instead going to kneel down between Ben’s open legs._

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Ben was getting way too hot and bothered by what was essentially a shitty porno trope. What the fuck was he thinking? His dick jumped in his hand, his balls already tightening with the urge to cum. He slowed down a little, wanting to prolong whatever fucked up fantasy he was having. Because frankly, he kind of liked where it was going.

_The girl unzipped his pants slowly, teasing him. His dick strained against the fabric of his briefs, wanting in on the action the girl was lavishing him with. She ran a feather-light finger over his bulge, laughing softly as she did so. “Someone’s eager,” she whispered. She yanked the elastic of his briefs down, the fabric brushing roughly over his already too sensitive cock. It immediately sprung free, like a dog rearing for a walk. Except, in this case, his dog was rearing for a good fuck._

_Ben’s vision went white as the girl licked a careful, slow strip on the underside of his cock. He groaned lewdly, reaching out blindly to bury his hands in the girl’s soft brown hair. Ben wanted to yank her up onto his laps, tear off those ridiculously short shorts of hers and bury himself into her heat to the balls, but her small hands pressed down on his clenched thighs, keeping him down. He knew that he could easily overpower her if he wanted to, just drag her up and have his way with here. But there was something overbearingly sexy about letting her be in charge._

_Her warm breath ghosted over the head of his straining dick._

_“For fuck’s sake,” Ben moaned, tightening his grip on her hair. The girl whimpered, sending shocks of arousal coursing through Ben’s body, pooling at the base of his cock._

Ben knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. A minute, a minute and a half at the most. His face was pulled into a grimace of painful pleasure. The ripples of electricity running up and down his veins set alight something within him. He couldn’t think past anything but Ray, Rey, the girl he was supposed to have sold a fucking Kirby vacuum cleaner to but had instead bled all over and was now jerking off to.

_Her lips finally wrapped around the head of his cock, her tongue swirling around it with increasing speed. Ben’s body sang with sensation, his balls tightening and his mouth falling open in a silent ‘o’._

_“What the fuck are you doing to me?” Ben asked hoarsely. He could barely keep himself together long enough to say that. She took him in even further, going almost to the hilt before stopping when he hit the back of her throat. To make up for it, she removed a hand from his thigh and wrapped it around the base of his dick, squeezing just enough to draw another tortured sob from him._

_“I don’t think I’m going to last, sweetheart,” Ben admitted as she bobbed up and down his length enthusiastically, her mouth hot and tight and wet and_ so willing. _He’d had lovers before, more experienced ones who knew exactly what to do to get him off in as little time as possible. But this, this girl with her careless, passionate attention and a smile like the sun, it was better than anything else he’d ever felt before._

_She let him go with a wet pop, and the loss was so sudden and so acute that Ben automatically tried pulling her head back down to finish the job._

_“What’s the suction power on_ this _model?” she asked wickedly, motioning to herself, that perfect smile reappearing on her glistening lips once again. “Do I meet your standards?”_

_“Fuck yeah you do,” Ben panted. His hands loosened their grip on her hair just a fraction, and she took that as an opportunity to slip up and press a chaste kiss to his lips. Her hand kept travelling up and down his cock, slowly stroking him closer and closer to the edge._

_“Come for me, baby,” she whispered in his ear before going down again and taking him as deep into her mouth as she could. Her hands and mouth and tongue moved in tandem, chasing him to a climax until-_

Ben came with a shuddering, guttural roar. His hot, white cum shot out and onto the inside of his sweatpants, leaving him filthy and panting. Did he seriously just fantasize about the Niima girl sucking him off and making _innuendos about vacuum cleaners?_ He’d jerked off to some weird shit before, but nothing topped this.

There was a knock at the door, and then someone shouted, “Delivery for Mr. Solo!”

Ben got up, red-faced and ashamed, and went to collect his dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whaddup we got some plot we got some porn now for the third p, penance because fuck knows i need that
> 
> if bens takeout skills are shit thats because mine are cool ok glad we got that cleared up
> 
> also, funfact, jason momoa and i share birthdays so therefore i am jason momoa
> 
> also, i have never received a blowjob so forgive me if its a little unrealistic on his end whoops


End file.
